I chose BE (TG, BE, Bimbo)

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I wrote anything in first person, though the narrator does address the reader on occasion.

Whatever you think of me now, know I chose to be this way.  I wanted this.  I wasn’t coerced into it.  I tell this now as a testament.  It won’t be long before writing like this will soon be beyond me.  Already, my speech patterns have changed.  Outwardly, I am what I asked to be, what I craved to be, and there is little left that would make me happier, but it will come.  Then again, so will I over and over and over again until I’m deliriously happy.  Just thinking about it makes it hard for me to continue writing.  I bet you’re getting hard just thinking about it.

My name is Jessica, but I rarely go by that name either.  It, like many things, no longer fits.  Once, I went by Jesse, but that also no longer fits.  Everyone who knows me calls me Jade.  I had to give up everything that I was to be who I am now.  In hindsight, it was the best decision I ever made.

I had just finished college with the thought that my new degrees would help me land work.  Yeah, right.  Every entry-level job wanted four years of experience.  I was not looking forward to the idea of working retail or living with my folks.  I had little hope of finding anything immediately and rent was due soon.  I’d saved enough to pay for two months, but I didn’t want to dip into that if I could avoid it.

The fall Renaissance fair was coming soon and I wanted something to distract me.  The Renaissance fair had your standard complement of reenactors, civilians, and food.  I enjoyed the demonstrations, people-watching, and a bit of food.  As I was finishing my turkey leg, I spotted a young girl getting separated from a woman that I presumed was her mother.  One minute she was there, the next, the girl was looking around as if she were lost.

To my surprise, a man in black armor scooped up the kid and headed away from me.  The girl struggled, so it was obvious to me that the guy in the armor was not someone the kid recognized.  I didn’t have time to dial for help.  I yelled in their direction and chased after them.  

Dumb, I know.

By sheer luck, I was able to catch up to them.  As the man turned, I chucked the remainder of my drumstick at his head and clocked the guy.  It didn’t stop him, but it slowed him down long enough for me to reach for the girl.  The man turned to look at me and stumbled over a tent rope.  The girl, whose hands were holding onto mine, fell against me while the man fell.  His head smacked against a log.  People screamed.

“I’ve got you,” I said to the kid.  “Are you okay?”

“Mommy!” the little girl shouted.

I set the wiggling little girl down and turned to see the woman from earlier.  She scooped up the little girl, holding her close, tears running down her face.

“Thank you,” she told me.  She sat her daughter down and checked the man’s pulse.  “Still beating and breathing.”  That was a load off my mind.  She yelled at one of the people in the nearby tent to call for an ambulance and then bring her a first aid kit.  I stood there watching.

Now, you’re probably wondering why I haven’t described myself.  The truth is that I barely remember the old me.  I know I was tall, had brown hair, and was average in almost every way except maybe my intelligence.  I’d just grated with high honors and I’d been a smart cookie.

The woman bandaged the man’s head, then picked her daughter back up before walking over to me.  “Thank you for saving my daughter.  She wanted to come and see Dragon.  I didn’t expect him to show up.”

“You know the guy?”

“Yes,” she said sourly, “my ex-husband.  He lost complete custody and visitation rights last year.  I should have been more careful.”

I shrugged.  “I’m just glad I was looking the right way.”

A couple of cops walked up, followed by EMTs.  I gave them my statement and information.  Alyssa, the woman whose daughter I saved, likewise gave a statement before a man of Eastern European descent, dressed in red leather and smelling of a blacksmith’s forge walked up.  He hugged Alyssa before taking the little girl in his arms effortlessly.  “Dragon!” the girl chimed.  I looked at the man curiously.  There was a dragon emblem in gold on his chest.

“Are you okay, Deirdre?” the man asked, his accent thickly German.

“Yes, Dragon.  This nice man saved me,” Deirdre said, pointing at me.

The man’s gaze pierced me in a way no one has looked at me before or since.  He walked over to me, carrying Deirdre.

“That was very brave of you.  Stupid, but brave,” the man said, offering his hand.  His grip was firm but not forceful.  “I am Friedrich Drachen.  It is a pleasure to meet a hero in this day in age.”

“I’m no hero,” I remember telling him.  The look of skepticism he gave me could drown an ocean.  “I’m just happy I caught up to them in time.”

“I, too, am happy.  You are like Deirdre and Alyssa.  You have a pure heart,” Fredrich stated matter-of-factly.  “I doubt that even if I offered a reward you would accept it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck.  “Unless you can find me a job that I’d love that could pay my bills and student loan, there’s not much I could hope for.”  I wasn’t going to voice what I really wanted out loud.

“Well, let’s see what I can do,” Fredrich said with a smile.

“Sir, we’d like to ask you a few more questions,” I heard one of the cops say.  I turned to look at them, then back where Fredrick had been.  He, Alyssa, and Deirdre were gone.  Only the faint scent of a forge lingered.

I answered the police’s questions and was told there likely wouldn’t be any charges pressed.  Still, they warned me not to leave town for a few weeks just in case.

I went home and felt exhausted.  Worse still, my body ached like I had the flu.  What I wanted was a shower.  Once inside the bathroom of my tiny one-bedroom apartment, I shucked my clothes and stepped in the shower.

As the warm water sluiced over my body, this was when the changes began.  I thought about what I’d told Fredrich.  I wanted a job I’d love that paid enough to pay my bills and loans.  As I lathered the loofa, I thought about what I’d love to do.  I studied cinematography in college.  I owned three video cameras.  I’d love to do video editing.  It was just too bad that I didn’t know anyone interested in being in videos.  It wasn’t like I had the body for it.  Soaping up my chest, the ache I’d felt before began to focus on my pecs.  

I squeezed my left pec and gasped at the sensation.  My chest had never felt like that before.  Running the loofa over my upper chest, I watched my chest expand with each breath.  My nipples grew larger as well.  My hair was already hairless.

Remember me saying something not wanting to voice out loud what I really wanted?  The truth was that, as long as I could remember, I wanted to be a woman, but not just any woman.  

I wanted to be a bimbo.  

I wanted to be sexy, horny, and never have to care about things like frames per second or what Thelonious Monk did for jazz.  Who needed math when all that mattered was how attractive you were and how many people you could fuck?  As I washed my swelling breasts, I thought about that.  I thought about licking pussy and sucking cocks, having my holes filled and my titties fucked.  I wanted it all.

The more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I wanted more: to be a bimbo on camera or someone’s whore.  I just wanted a sexy body and to get fucked as often as I could.

As my hand slid down between my legs, I found a mound where my dick had been.  I couldn’t resist.  I could feel my fingernails as my fingers parted the folds now between my legs.

A moan escaped my lips.  I dropped the loofah.  My other hand was needed for other things.  I groped my left breast as I fingered my pussy.  It was damned near instinctive.  I imagined being watched as I showed off how much of a slut I was.  That turned me on even more.  I needed more than just my fingers, though.  I knew that wouldn’t be enough.

It took effort and focus to keep myself from getting off, but I dipped back under the showerhead and finished showering.  “I need to cum,” I thought, “but it’ll be so much hotter if I’m on camera.”  I hurried to dry off, my breasts now large handfuls and jiggling with each step, my nipples dark gum drops and rock hard.  My hair, once shoulder-length, was now spilling down my back in blond waves.  I blew it dry and brushed it into place as best I could.

I was about to leave my bathroom when I remembered that I wasn’t wearing makeup.  I wasn’t much of a bimbo if I would neglect my makeup.  Still, it was a challenge to do it while I played with my pussy with my free hand.  I was so horny!

I hurried to my bedroom only to find that one of my cameras was already pointed at my bed.  If I was going to be a bimbo, I was still smart enough to know how to start a computer and my cameras.  I moved to my bed and realized there was an assortment of dildos.

Laying back, I lubed one up, one that had been slightly larger than my cock had been hours before.  That one went into my pussy, first slowly, filling me.  “Like, I need more in my holes,” I said, my voice high-pitched and wanton with lustful need.  I took a second one and wrapped my lips around it, imagining how I would’ve wanted my cock sucked as a man.  My gag reflex was completely suppressed as I downed the cock, thrusting it in my mouth as I filled my pussy.

I loved every minute of it but wanted more.

I took the dildo from my mouth and set it aside.   I left my pussy filled with the second dildo while I reached for the butt plug.  Like I said, I needed more in my holes.  Lubing up the butt plug, I gingerly pushed it inside me.  I moaned at how wonderful it felt to have my ass filled.  “Like, I can’t wait to have a real cock in my ass,” I said to the camera before I took the dildo I’d been sucking on and wrapped my lips back around it.  My lips felt pillowy, letting me get real suction on the dildo.  For a brief moment, I wondered what an actual cock would taste like.

The moment passed as I fucked my face with one dildo while I fucked my pussy with the other, my titties bouncing and still growing on my chest.  I knew that anyone who saw this would think it was a special effect.  I didn’t care.  I also knew anyone watching would know the truth: that I was a slut.

I wanted to be a slut.  I’d always wanted to be a slut.

As the thought entered my mind, I came.

Laying there panting, I pulled the dildo from my mouth.  “Like, I’m totes a bimbo,” I admitted with a giggle.  Well, my body was.  My mind?  My mind was still whirling a mile a minute as it usually did in my post-orgasmic clarity.

I slit the dildo from my pussy and rested it between my now melonous breasts then feigned falling asleep.  I counted to thirty in my head before getting up to turn off the camera.  I grabbed the baby wipes from the nightstand and wiped my pussy clean.  My room smelled like sex, but that was okay.  I checked my dresser and my clothing had all been changed.  

Gone were the men’s briefs only to be replaced by women’s briefs and thongs.  I wasn’t feeling that adventurous.  I also found a pink bra that matched the silk panties I’d picked.  I was astonished as the tag magically changed from 32DD to 32F as I held it in my hands.  Apparently I wasn’t done growing.  Hooking the bra in the front, I spun it around before sliding my arms in, then lifting my girls into the wireless bra.  The back pain that had been there before faded.  It had been barely noticeable past the endorphin rush of my first female orgasm.  My phone chimed.

Turning the phone on with inch-long, hot pink nails was a bit of a trick, but I managed to do so.  There were notifications about new subscribers to my SinStar account.  I had to think about what that was when I remembered it was a site for independent porn stars.  Logging in, I found that I was making over three thousand dollars a month, not counting tips.  Scrolling through the videos, it was like watching a woman purposefully turning herself into a bimbo.  I also had macromastia, or so the account claimed.

Looking through my own videos made me horny, though I didn’t realize my hand was down my panties until there was a knock at the door.  I reflexively licked my own fingers off, then reached for a nightgown, tying the belt around my waist.

Checking the peephole, I was surprised to find Fredrich and Angela standing outside.  No Deirdre.  I unlocked and opened the door.

Angela looked shocked.  Fredrich gave me a smug grin before looking at Angela.  “I told you that you’d be shocked,” he said, his voice gravelly.  He still smelled like a smith’s forge and warm leather.  It was all I could do to not rub up against him and those yummy, toned muscles of his.

Angela snorted.  “I guess you were right that we should leave Deirdre with a sitter,” Angela admitted.  She looked at me.  “May we come in?”

“Like, sure,” I said, my voice a husky purr.  “Can I get you anything?”  A blow job, maybe?  A threesome?

The pair stepped inside and closed the door behind them.  Fredrich moved to the couch and Angela moved to sit on his lap.  “I wanted to be sure you got what you wanted.”

“Like, you mean my body and my cam stuff and the web site?” I asked.  Fredrich nodded.

“It’s almost all I ever wanted.”

“Almost?” Angela asked.

I nodded, my boobs bouncing.  I cupped them in my hands.  “My boobies.  They’re still so small.”

Angela sputtered while a rumbling chuckle came from Fredrich.  “See, I told you,” Fredrich said.  “I gave her what she needed, but not what she wanted.”

“You gave me my new body?” I asked, still unaware of the truth.  I could sense it on the fringes but wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Yes.  You saved the life of a child, one I personally have sworn to protect,” Fredrich explained.  “For that, I am willing to do a great deal to repay a debt.  I am Dragon after all.”

“Like you said your last name was Drachon,” I said, smiling that I’d remembered.

“A half-truth.  I am Dragon.  I am the last that I know of.  There is so little magic left that I doubt many would see me for what I am.”

I stared into Fredrich’s eyes and there were flickers of fire in them.  Part of me instinctively wanted to be afraid of him.  The rest of me remembered he’d given me this sexy body and this new life.  A small part of me wanted to fuck him.

“So, like, you used magic on me?” I asked, it all coming together.

“I did,” Fredrich answered.  “However, I am not done with you.”  

As the words left his mouth, I could smell leather and a smith’s forge, likely his breath, surrounding me.  With each breath I took in, I could feel my boobies getting bigger and bigger, spreading the cleavage of my nightgown more and more.  I moaned and cupped my titties, loving how good they felt as they grew in my hands.  They’d been as big as melons when Fredrich and Angela had arrived.  They were now nearing the size of my head.  

“Bigger,” I said.  As my titties grew, I realized Angela’s hand had slipped down her skirt.  “Is this turning you on, watching a busty, bimbo slut’s titties grow?”

“Fuck yes,” Angela admitted.  “I keep picturing you licking my pussy.”

That got my attention.

I untied the belt of my nightgown and let it fall to the floor.  Angela smiled and slid off Fredrich’s lap to sit on the couch.  She tugged her skirt and panties down.  It took every ounce of willpower to not move between her legs and start licking.  Instead, I moved between Fredrich’s legs, reaching to unbutton his leather pants, frustrated that his pants only had buttons and no zipper.  I smiled with delight.  Commando.  Fishing out his rigid cock, I began to stroke it with one hand as I moved between Angela’s legs and teased her clit with one hand while lapping at her slick folds.

I switched back and forth, my titties still growing as I edged each of them.  Angela was pleading for release as my breasts swelled larger than basketballs.  I lapped eagerly at her pussy and pushed her over the edge, pulling away a moment before she could hold me there.  I moved back between Fredrich’s legs and began to bob my head around his large cock.  I felt him tense.  I slipped back and watched as he came over my tits.  I moaned and rubbed it in.  I loved it.  I was a slut and it was wonderful.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, licking my fingers clean of Dragon’s cum.  It tasted like nutmeg and cinnamon.

“Are your breasts big enough?” Dragon asked.

“Yes, sir,” I admitted, lifting them with my arms, the bra now massive.  I could feel how large the back had to be to support the weight of my mammoth mounds.  “But, like, could I ask for one last thing?”

“You may ask.”

Which brings us back to the beginning.  Yes, being a cam girl seemed like a lot of fun.  Being the personal fucktoy to Angela and Dragon sounded even better.  So I asked him to let me write this.  Even now, like, I can feel my mind slipping.  Do you know what else could be slipping?  Dragon could be slipping his cock in my pussy or between my big, bimbo boobies while I slip my tongue in Angela’s pussy.  Like, that would be totally wonderful.

Like, I know I was supposed to be writing something, but I totally can’t remember.  Maybe it was about the dragon tattoo I’m going to get on my butt.  Like, anyway, Angela’s totally calling so I have to go.

Dragon’s Jade